No Place Like Home
by LindsayC173
Summary: Draco Malfoy has been brought up to hate Muggles and anyone connected with them. Dudley Dursley has been brought up to despise magic and all those who practice it. They have both spent years hating Harry. What happens when these two very different (and yet surprisingly similar) people are forced to live under one roof? Draco/Dudley friendship fic - not slash.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is something I started a little while ago. I haven't written much yet but I figured I'd put this up and see what people think of it. Let me know if you'd like to see more, and any ideas or suggestions you might have are always welcome. Thanks!**

**Chapter One**

Harry sighed as he surveyed the enormous pile of parchment in front of him. Who knew being a hero and saviour of the wizarding world could involve so much paperwork? He and Kingsley had been working for hours, sorting through problems and difficulties and making decisions that apparently couldn't possibly be made without the input of the Boy Who Lived. Right now, all he wanted to do was apparate back to Grimmauld Place, have Kreacher bring him something to eat and collapse into bed. Instead, he was stuck in the Ministry, helping Kingsley sort out the return of muggleborn refugees to their homes, and planning Death Eater trials.

"Perhaps we should finish up for the night," Kingsley suggested at last, causing relief to flood through Harry, "The rest can wait until tomorrow."

"Yeah, sounds good," Harry agreed, stifling a yawn and standing up. Just as he reached the door, however, Kingsley spoke suddenly.

"Wait a sec. There's one more thing I need to ask you."

"Yes?" said Harry wearily, turning.

"You said a few days ago that you don't think Draco Malfoy should be given a full criminal trial?"

"Yeah, well, he was only sixteen when he became a Death Eater. And it's not like he did anything very terrible. It would seem a bit extreme to send him to Azkaban," Harry said, repeating the same argument he'd had several times with various people over the fate of Draco Malfoy.

"And I completely agree," replied Kingsley, surprising him, "but people are going to expect some sort of punishment. He _was_ a Death Eater, after all, and in most cases we've been sending people to Azkaban simply for having the Dark Mark, regardless of their actual crimes."

"So what would you suggest?"

"Firstly that his wand be confiscated, for a period of six months perhaps, to be reconsidered at the end of those six months, and another decision made depending on his behaviour."

"That sounds fair."

"And secondly that he be placed under house arrest, also for a fairly short period of time. However, Malfoy Manor is currently under inspection due to Voldemort's use of it, and may not be entered by anyone other than trained Aurors and authorised Ministry officials."

"So he can't live there."

"No, he can't. And in order for us to place all the necessary charms on it to stop him leaving, the house he stays in would have to be a fairly old and magical building.

"Okay. Do you have one in mind?"

"I do. I was wondering whether, with your permission, we might use number twelve, Grimmauld Place?"

"What?" Harry stared at Kingsley, wondering whether he might have misheard him.

"I realise that it's a lot to ask, but –"

"Let me get this straight. You want me to let Malfoy come and _live _with me for six months, or potentially even longer?"

"Only if you're willing to do it. Normally I would never dream of asking someone to do this, but we're very short on resources right now. If he can't stay with you, then I'm afraid he will simply have to be sent to Azkaban."

Harry sat down. He couldn't believe this. Then again, it was probably his own fault. After all, he'd been the one to insist on Malfoy not being sent to Azkaban. And how bad could it be? It wasn't like he was actually at home very much. He spent more time at the Ministry than anywhere else, only going home to eat and sleep, and sometimes not even then. And if he could make things a little easier for Kingsley, who in his new job as temporary Minister of Magic had been working even harder than Harry, then surely that would be worth a little bit of inconvenience?

"Alright, I'll do it," he said heavily. Kingsley nodded his thanks, and Harry groaned inwardly. What had he let himself in for?

When Harry arrived at Number Twelve, he was unsurprised to find Hermione already there, sitting at the kitchen table and tucking into a bowl of Kreacher's soup. She often stayed here, preferring it to her parents' empty house – which still awaited their return from Australia – and to the Burrow, where she felt out of place among the family who were still mourning Fred.

"How was your day?" she asked as he came in.

"Tedious," he replied, and she smiled sympathetically. She knew all too well what it was like; she was doing similar work, but in a different department.

"Talking of work, there's something I need to ask you," she said casually as Kreacher fetched Harry some soup.

"What's that?" Harry asked warily, sitting down. He'd had quite enough of people asking him things for one day.

"Well … as you know, the Ministry sent out someone to fetch back your uncle, aunt and cousin a few days ago. They were recovered without difficulty, but when they arrived at Privet Drive, they discovered that the house had been completely destroyed by Death Eaters. Due to the nature of the curses used in the destruction, it's going to take the Ministry months to repair. In the meantime, the Ministry asked me to organise accommodation for them. Fortunately, your aunt and uncle have decided to go and stay in some holiday home in Majorca, but for some reason Dudley is refusing to go with them."

"Okay …" Harry understood her problem – Dudley could be very stubborn when he wanted to – but couldn't see where she was going with this. It wasn't like _he _was going to be able to persuade Dudley to go.

"This means accommodation for him is the Ministry's responsibility and we were wondering – and I know this is a lot to ask; I would completely understand if you refuse – whether he could stay here at Number Twelve."

"What?" Harry said incredulously, for the second time that day.

"I understand it's a huge favour to ask of you," Hermione said apologetically, "It's just that … well there's not much else we can do," she finished.

"Oh, well that's a good idea, Hermione," said Harry sarcastically, "Let's have _two _people who hate me staying in my house for a while. They can exchange tips on how best to pick on me."

"Two?"

"Yes, two. Kingsley has requested that Draco Malfoy be placed under house arrest – here at Grimmauld Place. So Malfoy is going to be living here for the next six months."

"Oh." Hermione seemed unsure what to say. They sat in silence as Harry finished his soup, then smiled in thanks when Kreacher whisked the bowl away to be cleaned.

"Yes, Hermione," he said resignedly, "Dudley can come here." After all, how bad could it be?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Less than a week later, Harry found himself standing in a part of the Ministry he had never been in before: the holding cells. They were used for less serious criminals or those who hadn't yet been sentenced, in order to prevent Azkaban from overflowing. And this was where Draco Malfoy was being held.

"This way, sir," a young security officer said, gazing reverently at Harry and ushering him towards one of the doors. Harry sighed. He would never get used to this ridiculous hero worship. It just got more and more annoying.

Stepping through the door that was being carefully held open for him, Harry found himself looking down at a small, huddled figure. Draco Malfoy was a mess. Harry knew for a fact that his treatment while here must have been excellent, and yet he was very, very thin. His robes were slightly tattered and his hair was dishevelled, as though he didn't really care what he looked like. When he looked up at Harry, his cheeks were hollowed and he had dark circles under his eyes.

"Ummm … I've come to take you back to Grimmauld Place," Harry explained. Draco nodded silently and stood up. He followed Harry back down the corridor and into one of the Ministry fireplaces, from which they travelled back to Grimmauld Place. Apart from Kreacher, it was completely empty, Hermione still being at work. In the few weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, several Hogwarts students with nowhere else to go had stayed there, but they had all left now, though people occasionally dropped by if they needed somewhere to spend the night. It was a little tiring sometimes; having his home used as some sort of hotel, but most of the time he didn't really mind. He might have to discourage it, however, while Draco and Dudley were living here.

"That's the kitchen," Harry said, gesturing to it, "You're welcome to help yourself to food whenever you like. Or if you prefer, I'm sure Kreacher will fix you a meal, if you ask him nicely." Draco nodded, still not speaking. In spite of years of calling this boy "Malfoy", Harry now couldn't help referring to him as "Draco" in his head. Perhaps it was because this meek, obedient young man was so different from the arrogant, big-headed boy who he knew as "Malfoy" that it was hard to believe they were truly the same person.

"This is your bedroom," Harry continued, showing Draco into a spare bedroom on the top floor. He had decided it would be best to keep Dudley and Draco as far apart as possible, and believed Dudley would prefer a room further down, closer to the kitchen.

"The Ministry paid for a bunch of new clothes, because yours are still being held as evidence," he told Draco, "But if there's anything else you need just let me know. Ummm … I think that's everything. Obviously you're not allowed to leave. Oh, and my cousin's staying for a while. He's a Muggle, so if you can't be polite to him then just avoid him. Any fighting between the two of you and I'll chuck you out, which probably means the Ministry will send you to Azkaban. I wouldn't pick a fight with him, though, now that you don't have a wand. He's pretty big." At the mention of a Muggle, Harry saw a little of the old arrogance flash in Draco's eyes. It was a bit of a relief, to be honest. Having Draco so quiet and docile was a little unsettling.

Suddenly the doorbell rang, making Harry jump and setting off Mrs Black. Hurrying down the stairs and muttering a useful little charm he had learnt to silence Mrs Black, Harry reached the front door just as Kreacher opened it to reveal Hermione and Dudley standing on the doorstep.

Dudley looked different. He was thinner, for one thing, but surprisingly that wasn't the first thing Harry noticed. He looked … older somehow, more mature. Harry had become accustomed to seeing kids all around him who'd been forced to grow up too fast, who'd seen things no one of their age should ever see, and the change was always obvious in their faces. He hadn't expected to see that in Dudley, though, the one person he knew who'd been sheltered from this terrible war.

"Um … hi … why don't you come in?" Harry said awkwardly, standing aside to let Dudley and Hermione into the hallway. Kreacher appeared at Dudley's side and took his suitcase from him, and Harry waited for Dudley's reaction. Harry didn't even bat an eyelid, however, but merely handed over the case.

"Thank you," he said politely. Harry stared. Had he heard that right? Was this the real Dudley Dursley? For a moment he considered the possibility of Polyjuice Potion, then dismissed it as ridiculous. Then again, what was more ridiculous: Polyjuice Potion or Dudley with manners?

"Right," Harry said eventually, remembering where he was, "The kitchen's through there on the right; the living room's through that door, and I'll just show you up to your bedroom. Try not to make too much noise when you go past that painting; you really don't want to disturb her. She doesn't like Mug- I mean, non-magic people very much."

"Harry, you can use the word Muggle," Dudley said patiently, "I know what it means, and I won't find it offensive."

"Oh. Okay. Um … yeah. Well actually she doesn't like anyone very much, particularly me. Um … so your room's just up here …" Harry knew he was talking too fast, but he'd been put off a little by Dudley's uncharacteristic behaviour, and was subsequently very confused. Dudley followed him up the first flight of stairs and into a bedroom to the left, which Kreacher had prepared the day before. The case was already sitting by the bed, and Dudley knelt down and began to open it. As Harry turned to leave the room, Dudley glanced over his shoulder.

"Harry," he said quietly, "Thanks for having me." Harry pretended not to hear him. First a quiet, well-behaved Malfoy, and now a polite Dudley? It was all too much to cope with in one day. He was beginning to doubt whether this was actually happening. Perhaps he would wake up in a minute to discover that it had all been a very strange dream, and that his new house-guests were actually the arrogant, cruel bullies he had thought they were.

To his great relief, Harry realised that he was due at the Ministry in half an hour. It was the first time he'd ever been relieved to go to work. Hermione accompanied him back to the Ministry, before they split up and headed to different departments.

Harry's relief lasted all of five minutes, before Kingsley asked him to come and help with something. That was when the endless paperwork and trivial decisions began again. With a sigh, Harry settled into the usual routine, hoping desperately that when he arrived home that evening his new guests wouldn't have killed each other just yet. He wasn't sure how the next few months were going to go, but he knew one thing for certain. They weren't going to be boring.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Draco Malfoy was hungry. He hadn't been eating very well over the last couple of months, too worried about what was going to happen to him to think about food. Stuck in that little cell with nothing else to distract him, he'd been forced to deal with all the trauma and fear of the last few years, reliving the same events over and over again in his head until he didn't think he could go on living. He might not have been in Azkaban surrounded by Dementors (not that there were Dementors in Azkaban nowadays – the new Minister had seen to that) but in his case Dementors weren't necessary. Left in the solitude of his cell, his mind had done just what the Dementors might have, tormenting him with the memories of his worst moments and everything he regretted.

His worst fear was being condemned to a life's imprisonment in Azkaban. The conditions might be considerably better than they had been before, but he didn't think he could face the years locked up and alone with nothing but the memories for company. He'd go insane – he knew he would – and that was a terrifying thought.

Not that he'd expected anything else. He was a Death Eater – the tattoo on his arm proved it – and the fact that he hadn't actually killed anyone himself didn't change that. He'd let Death Eaters into Hogwarts, too, and attempted to murder Dumbledore, even if he hadn't been able to go through with it in the end. He deserved Azkaban, and there was no reason why the Ministry (now composed mainly of Order of the Phoenix and DA members) would choose to do anything different with him.

When he'd been told that he was being placed under house arrest at Potter's home, he'd first thought it was some cruel joke. What possible reason could Potter have for allowing his former enemy to stay with him? Why not just leave him to rot in prison? House arrest seemed far too lenient a punishment for a former Death Eater.

As he pondered on it further, he'd decided that perhaps this was Potter's opportunity for revenge. After all, Draco would be trapped in Potter's house, a prisoner, wandless, and entirely at his mercy. When Kingsley Shacklebolt had informed Draco of his punishment, he'd been careful to stress that, should Potter at any time decide that he no longer wanted Draco in his home, he could have the punishment reconsidered, and Draco would probably be sent to Azkaban. What better opportunity for Potter to bully and humiliate him, just as he himself had done to others in the past?

Draco had decided to behave perfectly. He'd accept anything Potter said or did to him – after all, it would probably be no more than he deserved – and just hope he wouldn't get sent to Azkaban. It would hurt his pride considerably, but it wasn't like he had much of that left anyway, and if it was the price he had to pay for freedom than it was worth it.

And then Potter had arrived, and he'd been perfectly polite. Rather than the taunts and insults Draco had been prepared for, he'd been absolutely civil. Now, sitting in his room, Draco was forced to consider a different possibility. Potter didn't want revenge. He didn't care about all the pathetic things Draco had done in the past. Draco was simply so pathetic he was below even being considered an enemy by the great war hero Harry Potter. He shouldn't have been surprised, but somehow this was more humiliating than any amount of bullying. He wasn't even worth the two seconds that it would take Potter to insult him. And if he wasn't worth that then he'd sunk even lower than he'd thought.

So now he was hungry. Reluctant to call for the house elf (he still thought of them as inferior, but was sure Potter wouldn't appreciate him mistreating his house elf), he decided to head downstairs in search of the kitchen. He was vaguely aware that Potter had pointed it out earlier, but hadn't been entirely paying attention at the time. This was a pretty enormous house, and Potter had placed him in a room at the very top of it, probably to keep him out of the way.

He was fairly accustomed to enormous houses, however, having spent a great deal of his childhood in them. And besides, no building could seem truly enormous or confusing once you'd encountered Hogwarts. He navigated the long corridors and flights of stairs with ease, eventually coming to a stop outside a room he was fairly positive was the kitchen.

The reason he stopped was that there was already someone inside. This was rather odd as he'd been careful to wait until he was positive Potter and Granger had left before even considering coming downstairs. It could have been a house elf, of course, but it didn't sound like a house elf. It sounded like a person.

That was when he remembered Potter's comments about the muggle cousin who was staying here. He hadn't paid much attention at the time – other than to grimace inwardly at having to share a house with a _muggle_, and then to stop and remind himself that he was lucky to be here at all – but it now occurred to him that this was something he ought to be concerned about. Potter had described his cousin as someone not to pick a fight with. In the past, Draco had only faced people like that when armed with either Crabbe and Goyle or a wand. Now he had neither, and he wasn't sure he really wanted to enter that kitchen.

In the end, his hunger won the battle with his fear, and he cautiously pushed the door open. The person inside was most certainly _not _someone to pick a fight with. He looked slightly peaky – in the manner of someone who had lost a lot of weight recently – but he had some very impressive muscles bulging under his t-shirt.

Right now he was looking at Draco rather threateningly.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, "Because this is my cousin's house, and if you're breaking in–"

"I'm not," Draco said quickly, instinctively taking a step backwards, "I'm not breaking in. I'm … staying here for a while." Harry's cousin pondered that for a moment. He struck Draco as the sort of person who thought things through rather slowly. Not stupid exactly – or not in the way Crabbe and Goyle had been – but not a quick thinker either.

"Hermione did say something about how somebody else would be staying here," he recalled, "Are you a friend of Harry?" Draco almost laughed at that, but stopped himself. He wasn't sure how close Harry and his cousin were yet, and didn't want to get on his wrong side by revealing that he and Harry had hated each other.

"Not exactly a friend, no," he replied, and fortunately Harry's cousin didn't press for more information. Instead, he stuck out his hand.

"I'm Dudley Dursley," he said cheerfully, "Harry's cousin."

Draco took the hand and shook it.

"Draco," he said, "Draco Malfoy."

It was a relief, but also a little odd, to meet someone who didn't react in the slightest to the name Malfoy. For most of his childhood people had reacted with veneration and respect to the name, and sometimes – in the case of families such as the Weasleys – with enmity. More recently, people had mainly reacted to the name, or even to seeing him, with disgust and hatred.

Dudley simply continued to grin; unaware of who he was talking to. It was a strange experience, but it was surprisingly liberating. There were no expectations placed on him to behave like the rich, pureblood heir that he was, nor was he bound by the mistakes he had made in the past. With this oblivious, accepting muggle, he could be anyone he wanted to be. He could start again.

This led him to wondering whether he _wanted _to start again. Why should he care what this muggle thought of him? Why would he want to be friends with a muggle of all people? Had he really sunk so low?

The answer, of course, was yes. Nobody in the Wizarding World would associate with him now, not after everything that had happened, and yet here was Dudley offering him his unconditional friendship. This was his opportunity to experience real, genuine friendship for the first time. Perhaps his father wouldn't approve, but when had listening to his father ever got him anywhere in the past?

And besides, he wanted to stay on Potter's good side as much as possible, and try to make life bearable for himself for however long he'd be staying here. Befriending Dudley could only help with that. Surely Potter would be inclined to be kinder to a friend of his cousin? Even if that friend wasn't exactly his favourite person.

While Draco was coming to this conclusion, Dudley had returned to what he had been doing when Draco had come in, which appeared to involve chopping up lots of vegetables with a large and very sharp knife.

"I'm making some soup," Dudley explained, "Would you like some?" Draco's stomach answered rather noisily before he could open his mouth, and Dudley laughed. Draco laughed too, a little awkwardly, reminding himself that it was okay for friends to laugh at each other, and that he mustn't get defensive about it.

"I'll take that as a yes," Dudley said with a grin, and continued with his cooking. Draco watched in fascination, blushing a little when Dudley caught him staring.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, "It's just that I've never seen someone cooking the muggle way before. Mostly our cooking at home was done by house elves, and at Hogwarts the food just appears on the tables. And even when people cook for themselves in the Wizarding World, they usually just use charms and spells and stuff. I've never seen anyone doing it all by hand before."

It occurred to him as he finished that he'd just used a lot of Wizarding World terms, and that he didn't actually know how much of this Dudley would understand. He wasn't used to talking to muggles. As it happened, however, Dudley seemed fairly unfazed. Obviously he knew a fair amount about the Wizarding World, even if he wasn't a part of it himself.

"It's funny," Dudley mused, "I only actually learnt to cook myself while staying with wizards. Up until then it was always my mum who did it, and very often she made Harry help her. I only ever set foot in the kitchen to get snacks out of the fridge. But then last year we had to go into hiding because Harry thought we might be in danger from Voldemort."

Draco flinched violently at the sound of the name that brought back so many awful memories. Dudley noticed and smiled ruefully.

"Sorry," he said, "I know that bothers a lot of people. Obviously we all called him You Know Who when we heard about the taboo, but once the war was over and it was safe I got back into the habit of using his name. I'll try not to, though. Sorry."

"It's okay," said Draco, "Go on with the story."

"Right. So we were in hiding from … You Know Who and his followers. My parents and I were taken to this big house where a lot of other people were also staying. A sort of safe house. There were a whole mixture of people staying there: muggleborns, muggles who'd married witches and wizards and could be in danger, various refugees, and even some purebloods who'd refused to cooperate with the Death Eaters and whose lives were at risk. Nobody there was a particular threat to You Know Who – all the proper resistance fighters were off helping the Order of the Phoenix – so I don't think the Death Eaters made very much effort to find us. We were just the odds and ends – the people who couldn't do anything useful but had to be protected. We all felt a bit useless, really, sitting around listening to reports come in but not actually doing anything to help.

"This was only later on, though. When I first arrived I knew nothing about the war or Death Eaters or You Know Who. In fact I didn't really know very much about magic at all. I knew that Harry was a wizard, and that he went to some magic school, and that somebody was trying to kill him and might kill us too. That was about it. It was pretty overwhelming, suddenly being in a house surrounded by witches and wizards. Pretty scary, too. You feel very helpless, living with a load of people who can do stuff with a single flick of their wand that you could never dream of being able to do."

He paused for a moment, reflecting, and Draco found himself recalling some of his own memories. He could certainly understand feeling helpless. Even with the ability to do magic, he'd been made to feel incredibly helpless in his own home, surrounded by people who would torture and murder without a second thought.

"I began to get used to it soon enough," Dudley said, returning to his story, "Of course it helped that they were all told to use as little magic as possible. Something about high levels of magic increasing visibility and making us easier to find. Which meant that trivial tasks like cooking and cleaning had to be done by hand. That presented a bit of a problem, of course, as witches and wizards are useless at doing anything by hand. No offence. So myself and a few others decided to teach ourselves to cook. We were pretty awful at first (there was a whole week when all we lived off was beans on toast, and there were a fair few evenings when we ate entirely burnt meals because we'd completely messed up) but we got a lot better. After all, when you're stuck in a house in the middle of nowhere with very little to do you have a lot of time to practise the things you're not so good at.

"So that's how I learnt to cook," he finished, "And I can now quite proudly say that I am a very competent cook, which always comes in handy. In fact, it's probably the most worthwhile thing I've achieved in my life."

They were silent for a few minutes, but it was a companionable silence rather than an awkward one. Dudley continued with his chopping and peeling and general cooking and Draco watched him, reflecting on the things he'd just heard. It was odd to think of how the Wizarding World must seem from a muggle's perspective. Probably even stranger than the muggle world seemed to him.

He got the feeling that there were parts of the story Dudley was leaving out, things he was choosing not to include. He didn't question it, though, nor did he begrudge him the right to his privacy. After all, he had plenty of secrets of his own – things he didn't think he'd ever want his new friend to know.

Perhaps he really could start again with Dudley. Leave his past behind him and, just for a little while, pretend that he wasn't the pure-blooded former Death Eater who'd once claimed to despise muggles. Just for a little while be simply an ordinary guy making friends with another ordinary guy.

Perhaps.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Over the next couple of weeks, a routine developed. Dudley, who over the last year had become accustomed to rising early, got up at seven and made himself breakfast. Occasionally he ran into Harry, in which case they exchanged awkward greetings and parted company as quickly as possible. Mostly he ate on his own.

After this, Dudley returned to his room. Often he spent his time reading, a habit he had picked up over the last year. A couple of years ago he would never have believed there would come a time when he was capable of spending hours sitting and reading textbooks about Wizarding history. Nowadays it was quite a common occurrence. He'd spent years attempting to ignore the fact that Harry belonged to a different magical world; now he was attempting to make up for that by learning as much about the world as possible. It truly was fascinating, and there was so much to learn.

At around noon, Dudley would head downstairs to the kitchen again, this time to prepare lunch. Sometimes Draco would be in the kitchen already when he went down; other times he would arrive soon afterwards. The boys would chat as Dudley cooked, and sometimes Draco would offer to help a little, though he was absolutely useless at it and had clearly never worked in a kitchen before in his life.

The one thing Dudley had learned about Draco through their conversations was that he was hiding something. Or rather a lot of things. He carefully kept the conversation away from himself, and tended to deflect personal questions as much as possible. This had the result that, in spite of hours of conversation, all Dudley knew about his new friend was that he had fairly rich parents, and had gone to Hogwarts with Harry. What his relationship with Harry was, and why he was staying in his home with no wand and no apparent reason for being here, Dudley had no idea.

He didn't press the matter. After all, wasn't he himself keeping rather a lot of secrets? Perhaps he would one day be close enough to Draco to reveal his own rather poor relationship with his cousin, and the prejudice against magic that he'd been brought up with and was still ridding himself of, but he wasn't yet. And until that day they would both keep their secrets and stick to light, trivial topics of conversation.

After eating lunch together, Draco and Dudley tended to return to their rooms again. It was easier than staying downstairs. Often people would drop by in the afternoons – sometimes in search of Harry and sometimes simply to drop something off or leave a message. Occasionally they would stay for a while and wait for Harry to return, but usually it was only Hermione – the girl who'd escorted Dudley here – or another boy with ginger hair who would do that. Both always seemed very relaxed and at home here, and Dudley assumed they were close friends of Harry. He thought he recognised the boy from that time with the exploded fireplace and that awful sweet that had made his tongue so long, but he couldn't be sure.

Anyway, Dudley had as little contact as possible with these guests. While most of the Wizarding World seemed fairly unaware that Harry Potter had a muggle cousin, he was sure Harry's closest friends would know exactly who he was, and probably didn't like him very much. It was easier to keep out of their way.

Kreacher always brought dinner up to Dudley's room for him. Dudley assumed that this was under Harry's orders and didn't argue or complain. The food Kreacher prepared was always delicious, and Dudley was often tempted to ask him about how he had made it, but the house elf didn't particularly seem to like him, and was unlikely to be willing to exchange cooking tips. He clearly adored Harry, and would put up with any family members, but it was apparent that he was not very enthusiastic about having a muggle in the house.

Apart from Kreacher, the only person Dudley had contact with on a regular basis was Draco. He began to look forward to their lunchtimes and the conversations they had. While reluctant to answer personal questions, Draco seemed quite happy to fill in any gaps in Dudley's knowledge of the Wizarding World, and to answer any questions he had about it. Dudley did the same for him regarding the Muggle World, and they both learnt a great deal from one another.

With regards to learning _about _one another, however, little progress was made. Or at least not until they'd been there for about a month. At this point something happened which gave Dudley a rather interesting insight into Draco's experience during the war.

It was a Sunday night, though days of the week mattered very little within their repetitive routine. Harry had informed them that he was spending the night with some friends, and had taken Kreacher with him, so they were the only two people in the house. In the absence of Kreacher, Dudley had made dinner, and the two had sat downstairs chatting until around half nine in the evening.

At this point Draco excused himself to go to bed. Dudley was about to follow until he spotted a book lying on a chair: Hogwarts, A History. Intrigued, he picked it up. Although he had found many references to Hogwarts throughout the other books he'd read, he didn't really know very much about the magic school Harry had disappeared to at the end of every summer holiday.

On the inside cover of the book was written the name Hermione Granger. Hoping she wouldn't mind too much, Dudley began to flick through the pages, soon becoming engrossed in the complex and fascinating history of the school. It sounded like a truly incredible place, and Dudley couldn't help but feel a spark of envy towards his cousin for the brilliant education he must undoubtedly have enjoyed there.

Dudley had only intended to skim through the book, but by 3am he was still sitting in the silent kitchen, having read Hogwarts, A History cover to cover. This surprised him. Although his ability to read had improved drastically over the last year or so, he had never before succeeded in reading an entire book in just over five hours.

Carefully laying the book back where he had found it, Dudley switched off the lights in the kitchen and began to make his way up to his room. Just as he reached it, however, a loud yell shattered the silence. It was coming from further up in the house, and couldn't reasonably be anyone but Draco. Dudley hadn't actually been in Draco's bedroom, but he was fairly sure he knew which one it was. Moving swiftly but calmly, he made his way up the stairs. Draco's room was at the very top. Carefully, he pushed the door open.

Draco was thrashing around in his sleep, moaning every so often. As Dudley watched, he gave another yell, then began to whimper.

"Don't … please stop … please … I'm sorry … make it stop! Make it stop!" It was a familiar sight for Dudley, and fairly similar to what he'd been expecting. He'd dealt with a lot of people suffering from nightmares over the last year. It had been a common feature among many of those staying at the safe house, particularly those who had arrived later on, or had lost friends and loved ones to Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

Gently, Dudley crouched down by the bed and touched Draco's shoulder. The boy shrank away from him, sobbing loudly.

"Please don't hurt me!" he begged, "Please … I'm sorry. _I'm sorry!_ I'll do better next time, I promise. Please don't hurt me."

"I'm not going to hurt you," Dudley said softly, "Draco, you need to wake up. Nobody's going to hurt you. Wake up."

Draco whimpered again, then opened his eyes. He was clearly confused to find Dudley leaning over him.

"What … what's going on?" he asked, "What happened?"

"You were having a nightmare," Dudley explained gently, "I heard you yelling and came to wake you up."

"Oh," Draco said quietly, "Thank you for coming." Something flickered across his face, some memory of the nightmare, and he flinched.

"No problem," Dudley said brightly, hoping to inject a lighter note into the situation. He went to leave, but stopped as he saw a look of panic flash across Draco's face.

"Do you … do you have to go?" he asked tentatively.

"Would you rather I stayed?" Dudley offered. Draco nodded eagerly.

"He might come back if I'm on my own," he said, "But if you're here then He won't." Dudley sighed. Clearly Draco wasn't entirely awake, and was still partly trapped in the nightmare. He couldn't possibly leave him in this state.

"Alright," he said, grabbing a spare blanket from the end of Draco's bed and heading for the sofa in the corner of the room, "I'll stay. Now go back to sleep."

Draco sighed in relief and closed his eyes. Soon his breathing slowed and his face relaxed. Dudley lay down on the sofa and tried to sleep, but his brain buzzed with thoughts. What exactly had Draco been dreaming about? Normally the nightmares of people in the safe house had been about deaths – either deaths that had already happened or deaths that the dreamer feared would happen. Draco's hadn't been like that. He'd been scared of someone – someone who had hurt him in the past. And what's more, he'd been apologising for something. Had it been some kind of punishment, perhaps? But who was the "He" Draco had referred to?

These were not questions Dudley had answers for right now. One thing was becoming apparent, however. Draco was not simply some old friend or classmate of Harry who was staying for a while. It was much more complicated than that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"Dudley! Dudley, where are you? Malfoy, where's my cousin?" Draco awoke to Harry bursting into his room, a rather concerned look on his face.

"Harry, relax, I'm here," Dudley said, getting up from the sofa in the corner of the room. Both Draco and Harry turned to look at him in surprise. Frantically, Draco tried to remember why on earth Dudley had slept on the sofa in his room. A vague recollection came back to him. He'd been having some sort of nightmare. He remembered Dudley waking him up and – a faint flush tinged his cheeks at this point – he was fairly sure he remembered asking Dudley to stay with him.

"Dudley?" Harry said incredulously, "What are you doing in here?" It suddenly occurred to Draco just how bad this looked: the two of them spending the night in the same room together while the house was empty.

"I –" Dudley began, then paused, clearly unsure whether Draco wanted him to share what had happened with Harry or not. Draco sighed. Better he admit to having nightmares like some silly kid than have Harry jump to conclusions.

"I was having a nightmare," he explained, "Dudley came and woke me up and then … decided to stay and make sure I was alright." If anything, Harry looked more confused than before.

"That was … kind of Dudley," he said doubtfully, "I've had some pretty awful experiences with nightmares myself. It's good to have someone there to wake you up. Someone who … won't make fun of you."

Dudley gasped as if realising something, then went very red.

"Cedric," he said quietly, "Cedric was murdered, wasn't he?" Harry nodded.

"I'm so sorry," Dudley said, "I should have … I can't believe I … I'm so, so sorry." Draco had never seen Dudley look so flustered. Draco looked from Dudley to Harry and then back again. They both looked very uncomfortable.

"It's fine," Harry said eventually, "You couldn't have known." Bemused, Draco watched as Dudley opened his mouth as if to disagree, then changed his mind.

"I'm sorry," he said again. There was a very long, very awkward silence.

"So how come you were looking for me?" Dudley asked finally.

"Oh. Well I was just on my way to go shopping with some friends," Harry explained, "And I figured I'd come in here first and see if you want anything while I'm there. But then obviously you weren't in your room so I got kind of worried."

"No, I can't think of anything," Dudley said, "Thanks for asking though."

"No problem. Draco, do you want me to get you some Dreamless Sleep Potion? Obviously you can't use it every night – it can be dangerous to become too dependent on it – but it works wonders if you want to get a peaceful night of sleep every so often. I know how awful nightmares can be if they occur regularly."

Draco was rather taken aback by Harry's offer. The genuine concern and sympathy in his old enemy's tone was obvious, and it made him feel very ashamed suddenly. Ashamed of how he'd behaved in the past. And ashamed of the way he'd believed Harry was only letting him come here in order that he could get some sort of revenge.

"That would be … brilliant," he said gratefully, "Thank you. I can give you the key to my vault if you like, so that you can get the money to pay for it."

Harry gave him a very strange look.

"Don't be stupid," he said, "I'll pay for it. It's not exactly expensive, and I've got plenty of money."

Draco flushed again and lowered his eyes. He didn't want Harry to pay for it. He didn't want to be even more in this man's debt. Then again, he already owed him his life. How much more in debt could you be?

After checking again that Dudley definitely didn't need anything, Harry left. Dudley and Draco sat in silence, but it was less awkward this time. They were both lost in their own thoughts. Dudley appeared to still be thinking about whatever it was he and Harry had been referring to – something to do with Cedric Diggory, Draco assumed. Draco himself was remembering last night. The details were coming back to him more clearly now. He remembered the nightmare very vividly; it had been about the Dark Lord, of course. They always were. He supposed he must have yelled and attracted Dudley's attention, because he could remember Dudley leaning over him, gently bringing him back into reality and telling him that nobody was going to hurt him. But he'd still been half dreaming, not quite aware of what was real and what wasn't, and had irrationally believed the Dark Lord was going to come back, and that if Dudley was there he wouldn't.

Perhaps it hadn't been so irrational after all, however. After all, Dudley _had _stayed and the nightmare hadn't come back. He'd slept more peacefully than he had in months. Perhaps it was simply the presence of someone else in the room. Perhaps it was the knowledge that there was someone in the world who actually gave a damn about him. Whatever it was, it had worked.

Of course, he couldn't exactly ask Dudley to come and sleep in his room from now on. Harry would _definitely _jump to the wrong conclusions if he did that. Dudley probably would too, for that matter.

"Thanks for coming last night," Draco said, "I … I appreciate it."

"No problem," Dudley smiled, "I used to do it all the time for people when we were staying at the safe house. I had to sit by one little girl's bed every night for three weeks at one point. She'd seen her parents tortured into insanity and then murdered, but had been rescued by the Order of the Phoenix. We didn't have the luxury of Dreamless Sleep Potion, so I just had to sit and hold her hand and wake her up every time she began to scream. In the end I had my bed moved into her room so that I could nap whenever I got the chance. It was a difficult three weeks for all of us. Poor girl. I'm not sure she'll ever quite recover. What child could after something like that?"

Draco felt like he was going to throw up. He knew which girl Dudley was talking about. He'd been there when she and her parents were dragged in. Her father had been a muggle, but her mother was from a rich, pureblood family. They hadn't been any particular threat to the Death Eaters. They weren't Order members, or any kind of fighters. They were simply being punished for their inappropriate match. Draco had taken his turn at torturing them. It had been a feeble Cruciatus Curse, but it had made them scream nonetheless. He could still see the little girl's face in his mind as she watched her parents writhe on the ground at Draco's feet.

Suddenly, Draco really didn't want to continue with this conversation. What right did he have to be woken from his nightmares, after he'd been responsible for causing them for so many others? What right did he have to take Dreamless Sleep Potion? He _deserved _the nightmares.

Abruptly, he stood up.

"Are you planning to stay here all day?" he asked shortly, "Because last time I checked this was _my _bedroom." He'd put on his best drawl. He knew he was being ungrateful, but he had to make Dudley leave. Right now he was in danger of coming to see him as an actual friend, and that mustn't happen. It would hurt too much then when Dudley found out the truth about him and wouldn't have anything to do with him anymore.

Dudley, however, didn't seem hurt or annoyed by Draco's tone. He eyed Draco thoughtfully for a few moments, then turned to leave the room.

"I'm making soup for lunch," he said as he left, "Any preferences?"

Draco sighed. Couldn't Dudley take a hint?

"I don't want any of your soup," he said coldly, "I'll have the house elf bring me something."

"Alright," Dudley said easily, not seeming perturbed in the least. Draco frowned as he watched him leave. Perhaps he was losing his touch, if he couldn't even adequately annoy someone anymore.

He spent the rest of the day shut up in his room, dreading that night. It was ridiculous, because he had nightmares every night. But after one night of more peaceful sleep, it suddenly seemed unbearable to go back to the nightmares.

A bottle of Dreamless Sleep Potion was sent up with his evening meal. Harry had kept his word. Draco set it on the table by his bed. It was tempting to use it, very tempting. To guarantee himself at least one night of peaceful sleep, free from the terror and pain he endured every time he fell asleep. But Harry had warned him about how it could become addictive. For most people that would probably take at least a week or so of using it constantly, but Draco wasn't sure it would take as long with him. A few hours of peaceful sleep when Dudley was in the room and already he was craving that feeling again. He could barely remember what it had been like to be able to take it for granted that he would always get a full night's sleep.

But one dose of Dreamless Sleep Potion couldn't hurt, could it? Still debating the issue in his head, he got ready for bed. Eventually, however, the decision was taken out of his hands as, before he could come to any sort of conclusion, exhaustion got the better of him, and he fell asleep.

Only to fall straight into his own personal hell.

_A little girl was staring at him. The little girl whose parents he'd helped torture. _

"_Help me!" she cried plaintively. He reached out towards her, but couldn't seem to make his feet move. She stared at him accusingly, tears running down her face. Then behind him, another voice called out:_

"_Kill her, Draco!" It was his father. He tried to walk towards her, to kill or help her he wasn't sure, but his feet still wouldn't move. Behind him, his father's yells grew angrier, and in front of him the little girl's sobs grew more desperate. _

"_I can't move!" he tried to tell them both, "I can't …"_

_The girl turned and walked away. He watched her retreating back, and tried to call out to her. To come back, maybe. To save him. But his voice didn't work. He turned to face his father. _

"_You've failed me one too many times, Draco," his father snarled, pointing his wand at him, "Crucio!" He laughed as Draco fell to the ground, screaming._

"_Please, Father! I'm sorry!" But his father was still laughing, and then it wasn't his father on the other end of the wand anymore, but Lord Voldemort._

"_You thought you could escape then, boy?" Voldemort hissed, "But you'll never get away from me. Never!" And the Mark on his arm was searing with pain. It seemed to be growing and growing, until it engulfed him completely._

"_You're mine, Draco!" Voldemort was saying, "Mine! The Mark proves it! You can never get away from me!" _

"_No, please, I'm so sorry," Draco gasped, "Father! Mother! Somebody, help me! Please! I'm sorry!"_

"Draco! Wake up!" A familiar voice was breaking through the nightmare, calling him back to reality. Draco opened his eyes, then promptly shut them again. He couldn't believe this! It wasn't Dudley this time, but Harry. How much more embarrassing could this get?

"Draco, are you alright?" Harry asked. Reluctantly, Draco opened his eyes again.

"No, Potter, I'm not alright," he snapped. Harry glanced at the Dreamless Sleep Potion, still full, that sat by the bed.

"Why didn't you take the potion?" he asked, "It helps. I know from experience. Trust me."

For a moment, Draco was tempted to tell Harry all about the nightmares, and how he was scared that once he started taking the potion he wouldn't be able to stop. It would have helped to talk about it, and to receive advice from someone who had experienced what he was going through.

But Harry hadn't really experienced what he was going through. He was Harry Potter, the saviour of the Wizarding World. Perhaps he'd experienced nightmares, but they were for completely different reasons. He could never understand the guilt Draco was carrying around with him.

"None of your business, Potter," he said, "I'll take whatever potions I like. I don't need your stupid Dreamless Sleep Potion." Harry's face hardened.

"Fine," he said, "But I'm putting a Silencing Charm on your room. If you're going to insist on having these nightmares, there's no need for you to wake the rest of us up with your screaming."

He strode out of the room, muttering the spell on his way out. Draco looked at the potion bottle. One sip and he could have a few hours of soothing nothingness. But he couldn't. Not now. It was a matter of pride. He'd told Harry he wouldn't take it. He couldn't change his mind now. He'd lost everything else; the least he could do was try to retain a little of his pride.

Exhausted, he lay down on the bed again. Turning around to face the other way, he resolutely ignored the bottle of potion. Perhaps this time he would manage to sleep without dreams naturally. That thought almost made him laugh. He'd never thought of himself as someone to indulge in false optimism.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes, and slipped back into a nightmare.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

"Dudley, why do you spend so much time with Malfoy?" Dudley looked up from the book he was reading. He had stayed downstairs reading after lunch, and had ended up losing track of time. When Harry came in, he'd got up to leave, but his cousin had gestured for him to stay. They'd sat in silence for a while, Dudley reading and Harry flicking through paperwork. Until, after half and hour or so, Harry had broken the silence with this question.

"Well it's not like I have a huge variety of people to choose from," Dudley said thoughtfully, "Draco and I are both stuck in this house for a while, so it makes sense that we should be friends."

Harry frowned.

"_You're_ not stuck here," he said, "You can leave whenever you like. And if you want to just go out for a bit or whatever then you can. You're not like Draco – he actually _can't _leave."

"I know," said Dudley, "But I'm stuck here regardless. Just as much as Draco is." Harry looked curious, but didn't press the issue, and Dudley was grateful. He didn't feel ready to go into that right now.

He knew this would be the perfect opportunity to ask about Draco: what he was doing here and why he couldn't leave. He was sure Harry would have explained it all to him. But that would be betraying Draco's trust somehow, and Dudley wasn't willing to do that. He'd come to understand a lot about the importance of trust over the last year, enough that he was unwilling to talk about his new friend behind his back, even simply to find out a little more about him.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Harry asked, "I mean, I don't really mind. It's not exactly been much trouble having you here. But surely you must have been tempted to go to Majorca with your parents? I'm sure you must have had enough of living with witches and wizards last year to last you a lifetime. Why come stay with your freaky cousin? Your parents must have been horrified."

"They were certainly surprised," Dudley said wryly. He wasn't sure how he was going to explain this to Harry. His cousin still thought of him as being the same person he'd been over a year ago. He couldn't possible begin to understand how much Dudley had changed during the year he'd spent in hiding. But he supposed he owed Harry an attempt at an explanation. After all, he'd taken Dudley into his home, when he would have been perfectly justified in telling him to get lost.

"They wanted to go on as if nothing had happened," he said eventually, "My parents, I mean. They wanted to fly off to Majorca and pretend the past year had never happened. And I guess that might actually be possible for them. They pretty much kept themselves to themselves all year, and avoided contact with everybody else as much as possible. But I can't do that. Not after the things I've seen. I can't pretend they didn't happen."

Harry looked at him thoughtfully.

"You've changed," he said, "It's taken me a while to properly realise that, because I've had such a biased picture of you in my head, but you really have."

"Yeah," Dudley agreed, "I mean, I was already starting to change I think. The thing with the dementors started it. And then you saved me from them, and I started to rethink a lot of stuff. But spending a year in that safe house really opened my eyes. I grew up a lot."

"I guess I should have seen it coming when you said I wasn't a waste of space," Harry joked, "That was a pretty radical statement coming from you." Dudley laughed.

"I guess that was a pretty pathetic way of saying thank you," he said.

"Aunt Petunia didn't think so," Harry pointed out. The two of them shared a grin as they remembered his mum's ridiculous outburst. It was the first moment of friendship he could ever remember sharing with his cousin.

"I really am grateful, though," he said, "Those dementors were awful, and you saved me from them, even after I'd been so awful to you a few minutes earlier."

"Yeah, well, nobody deserves the dementors," Harry said awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with gratitude, though Dudley was sure he must receive a lot of it.

"And I'm sorry, too," Dudley continued, determined to get all of this out now that he'd started, "I was a real jerk back then. I still cringe a bit when I think about how I behaved some of the time."

Harry looked down.

"I want to say I forgive you," he said quietly, "I really do. It's just … well those ten years before I went to Hogwarts were awful. I'd have given just about anything to have you treat me like a brother, like a friend. I don't think I'd have minded the way Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon treated me, if I'd at least had you on my side. Or even if you'd let me have some friends of my own at school. But you couldn't even do that."

He sounded so vulnerable suddenly, and the guilt struck Dudley all over again. It had been easier when he'd been hearing all about how wonderful and brave and heroic Harry was. It was easy to forget that, although Harry might have hundreds of friends and admirers and fans now, back when he was a kid there'd only been one person who could have been his friend, and that was Dudley. And Dudley had failed.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, staring at the ground, "And if it helps at all, you had the last laugh. I called a couple of my so-called friends the other day, and most of them barely remember who I am. They've got a new leader now, and they don't need me anymore. Whereas there are hundreds of people who'd give just about anything even just to get to meet you in person so that they could thank you for everything you've done for them."

"I know," said Harry, "I've got lots of people now. But it would have meant a lot to me to have someone back then."

He got up and walked out of the room. Dudley sighed. He wished he could go back in time, if only to find the younger version of himself and shake him very hard. He really had been a jerk back then.

"You okay?" Dudley looked up to see Draco standing there, looking at him with a rather odd look on his face.

"You heard that entire conversation, didn't you?" Dudley guessed. Draco seemed to consider denying it, before nodding.

"Yeah, I did," he said, "I was through in the next room. I didn't mean to listen in but …" he shrugged. Dudley understood. He and Draco were good friends now, but they still hadn't told one another much about their pasts. If Dudley had overheard a conversation as interesting as this one between Draco and Harry, he'd have struggled to walk away without listening in.

"You don't have to tell me anything else if you don't want to," Draco said, "I can just forget I heard anything, and it doesn't need to affect anything." Dudley knew what he was saying. So many times when people had found out how he'd treated Harry, they hadn't really wanted to have anything to do with him anymore. But Draco was saying that they could walk away from this and leave their friendship intact.

And Dudley really wanted to do that. He'd experienced rejection so many times from those who knew the truth about him that he didn't really want to risk it again.

But at the same time, he really needed to talk to someone. After that conversation with Harry, he wanted to confess everything. He hadn't done that yet. He'd told them that he and Harry hadn't really got on, and that he'd bullied him a bit, but he'd never shared all the details of how Harry had been treated in their house. He'd only told one other person about how Harry had been forced to sleep in a cupboard, knowing that he and his parents probably wouldn't have got out of there alive if it had been made public knowledge.

And if Draco decided to judge him for his past actions, then so be it.

And so he told him everything. He told him about Harry living in the cupboard while he had two bedrooms for himself. He spoke about how he'd used Harry as a punch bag, and had thought bullying him was just an amusing joke. He talked about everything, everything he was ashamed of and everything he knew must be making it hard for Harry to forgive him. And Draco listened. Not with disapproval or judgement. Not even with that look some of his new friends had given him, like they were trying to understand but it was really hard for them.

Draco actually seemed to understand. He seemed to understand completely. And that, more than anything else, convinced Dudley that Draco was hiding something very, very big.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: This isn't really a particularly long chapter, I'm afraid. Boekenworm said in a review they'd like to see Draco's perspective on the last chapter, so this is it. It's not hugely detailed, but I'll try and get a proper chapter up soon. **

**Chapter Seven**

"Dudley, why do you spend so much time with Malfoy?" Draco froze. He'd just come downstairs to get a book he'd left, but hearing this question from the next room caused him to stop in his tracks. He should have seen it coming really. He should have known Harry wouldn't be happy letting his cousin be friends with his old enemy for long. This was when Harry would tell Dudley about all the awful things Draco had done, and Dudley probably wouldn't even speak to him again. He shouldn't have cared. He should have been used to it. Nobody really wanted to speak to him much nowadays. But for a little while he'd managed to convince himself it might be different with Dudley.

But to his surprise, Harry didn't immediately reveal Draco's history as a Death Eater. They started to talk about why Dudley spent so much time in the house (which Draco had also been wondering about), and then about Dudley's parents. And as Draco listened, knowing that he should really stop eavesdropping and walk away, but unable to do so, he had a strange realisation. From what they were saying, it sounded like Harry hadn't had the idyllic childhood that everyone in the Wizarding World believed he had. In fact, it sounded like Dudley had contributed quite significantly to making that childhood hell.

Once upon a time, Draco would have congratulated Dudley on that achievement. Now he was simply confused; he didn't know what to think. He listened to Dudley attempt to apologise, and wasn't really surprised when Harry turned it down and walked out. But he knew that must be hard for Dudley and, much as he didn't wish to admit to eavesdropping, he knew he had to go in there and check on him.

And then Dudley started telling him more, which Draco listened to in bewilderment. He'd experienced Dudley only as someone thoughtful and patient, so it was a shock to suddenly discover that actually Dudley was a lot like him. Almost exactly like him, in fact.

Perhaps it would be possible to tell Dudley the truth about his past after all. Not yet. Being a Death Eater was worse than just being a petty bully, and he still wasn't ready to admit it to Dudley yet, but maybe it would be possible one day.

And so, having expected their friendship to end, Draco found it had actually grown stronger. They went up to Dudley's room to chat further, and Draco found himself laughing more than he had in a long time as Dudley described what he'd been like as a child, unafraid of making fun of himself as he acted out the ridiculous tantrums he'd thrown and the ways Harry had often got the better of him, in spite of all his advantages.

He felt relaxed, he realised. That wasn't something that had happened often recently. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd ever felt properly relaxed. Even when he'd been a child, he'd constantly been worrying about whether his father would approve of whatever he was doing, and whether he was doing it well enough.

The two of them lost track of time as they talked, and the room grew dark. Draco knew he should head upstairs to his own room, but all that awaited him there was disturbed sleep and the constantly recurring nightmares. So he put it off, until his eyelids felt heavy and he found himself growing drowsy. Curled up on Dudley's sofa, he felt warm and comfortable and really couldn't be bothered moving.

He'd leave in a minute. Maybe in a couple of minutes. Just a couple more minutes …


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

"Draco? Draco, you should probably wake up now. I'm gonna start making lunch in a minute."

Draco opened his eyes sleepily, trying to figure out where he was, and why he wasn't in his bed. Then it all came flooding back to him. He flushed a little as he realised he'd fallen asleep on Dudley's sofa. Sitting up, he watched as Dudley bustled around the room, opening the curtains and neatly making his bed. Apparently Dudley didn't find this really weird, so maybe there was no reason for him to either. After all, they were just friends who had stayed up late chatting and ended up falling asleep.

But for Draco that was weird. He'd never done that before, and had thought of it as quite a girly thing to do, not to mention a dangerous one. Your guard was lower late at night, when you were sleepy, and you could end up saying things you wouldn't normally.

A tapping at the window interrupted his thoughts, and Dudley opened it to let in a small owl. As Draco watched in surprise, he removed a scroll from the owl's leg, then grabbed a couple of treats from a packet by his bed to feed it.

"Who writes to _you_ by owl?" he blurted out, then realised that might have sounded a bit rude, "I mean, I just didn't think you'd … well you know."

To his astonishment, Dudley went a little pink.

"It's just a girl who was staying at the safe house with me," he said shyly, "She's a witch, but she was one of the few not to judge me straight away when she heard how I'd treated Harry. She's … well I guess she's the main reason I ended up learning so much about the Wizarding World. She taught me a lot and we … we ended up getting pretty close. We can't really see each other very much at the moment, for various reasons, but we write to each other every couple of days."

It was funny to see Dudley so shy about a girl, and kind of sweet. It occurred to Draco that he ought to disapprove of a relationship between a witch and a muggle, and he noted with faint surprise that he didn't believe in that anymore. He wasn't sure when his beliefs had changed. Sometime in the last year, he supposed, while trying desperately not to get himself killed. And then meeting Dudley, and discovering how very similar the two of them were, had cemented that change.

Dudley was now sitting on the bed, reading the letter avidly. He let out a little chuckle at something he read, and Draco felt a pang of jealousy. He wanted somebody like that, who could make him laugh without even having to be there in person, whose letters he could await eagerly, and who would do the same for his. Someone who wouldn't judge him.

But that was too much to ask for. He didn't deserve to be that lucky.

"I'm going to get changed," he said shortly, leaving the room. His mood had changed abruptly. He and Dudley were nothing alike, not really. Perhaps they'd been quite similar, up until sixth year. But then he'd become a Death Eater, which was far worse than a bit of petty bullying. And Dudley had clearly changed enough that a witch would fall in love with him. Draco wasn't sure he could ever change that much.

Some rational part of him tried to tell him that he was drawing far too many conclusions from a simple letter, but he staunchly ignored that part and proceeded to be in a bad mood for the rest of the day.

Dudley seemed unfazed as always by his rudeness and sudden mood changes. It was quite annoying, really. How could Dudley remain so unfalteringly cheerful regardless of how Draco behaved towards him? Perhaps it was simply because Draco's opinion and friendship didn't actually matter to him at all. He had the girl from the letters; why _shouldn't _he be cheerful?

Refusing to be drawn in by Dudley's rather infectious cheerfulness, Draco ate his lunch sullenly and replied in monosyllables to any attempts at starting a conversation. He knew he should stop pushing away the only person who was willing to be friends with him right now, but as he thought about it, he realised Dudley probably didn't even want to be friends with him. What was it he had said to Harry yesterday? Something about being stuck in the house, so he had to be friends with Draco, because he had nobody else to choose from.

Well, he certainly wasn't going to be a last resort. Dudley could spend all day writing letters to girls for all Draco cared. _He _certainly wasn't going to complain. He was perfectly happy with his own company.

That rational little voice made a brief return, pointing out that he hadn't had a single nightmare last night, and that he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept as deeply or for as long as he had in Dudley's room.

Draco sent it packing so quickly he was sure it wouldn't be coming back anytime soon.

* * *

Dudley noticed Draco's strange mood, and couldn't help but be a little hurt by it. He'd shared so much with Draco last night, had left himself open for rejection, and had been very relieved to see complete acceptance in Draco's eyes. And yet now Draco was withdrawing again, pushing him away.

An insecure part of him suggested that perhaps he'd been imagining the acceptance, and that Draco was pushing him away because he didn't want to be friends after hearing what he'd done in the past.

But he ignored that part. He'd gained a lot of experience of reading people over the last year, and all his experience was telling him that Draco's strange attitude had more to do with Draco's past than with Dudley's. So he didn't react to Draco's behaviour, trying to show him that he wouldn't be pushed away so easily. It would take more than mood swings to bother him. He would be Draco's friend if it killed him.

It hadn't escaped his attention that Draco had slept peacefully last night, and that this was not normal for him. After discovering the silencing charm that Harry had placed on Draco's room, Dudley had taken to checking in on Draco at some point every night. Most of the time he just checked, not doing anything to help, but if the screaming was particularly bad he would drop a tiny amount of Dreamless Sleep Potion into Draco's mouth. Not enough to have any dramatic effect, but enough to calm Draco down a little.

As far as he knew, Draco was unaware that he did this, and Dudley preferred to keep it that way. Draco was clearly a proud person, and wouldn't take kindly to being treated like a child or an invalid.

But the one thing he had learned from his nightly check-ups was that Draco never slept through an entire night without nightmares. Never. And yet he had when he'd slept in Dudley's room.

This didn't surprise Dudley. He'd met several people who'd needed only to know that they weren't alone in order to sleep peacefully. The presence of another person in the room, someone they trusted, could help in a way no amount of potion ever would.

But Dudley could hardly invite Draco to sleep in his room every night. That was an invitation that would definitely be taken the wrong way, and that Draco would doubtless be too proud to accept.

He supposed he'd just have to let the situation be for a while, and hope that it became a little clearer sometime in the future. It was hard though. He hated to feel helpless. Hard work didn't scare him, nor did starting what seemed like an impossible task. But sitting back and doing nothing when somebody was in pain: that was difficult.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

It was just a perfectly normal day when Draco's peace was shattered utterly. He supposed he had no right to complain, really. This was Harry's house. It wasn't Draco's place to decide who could or couldn't come to it. But he'd grown used to having it virtually to himself most of the time, with only Dudley and Kreacher for company.

It was the middle of the day, and Harry was at work. He and Dudley were eating lunch when the doorbell rang. They kept eating, assuming that Kreacher would tell the person that Harry was out, and they would go away.

But moments later, chatter filled the kitchen as a large group of people spilled through the door. Draco looked up in alarm to meet the gaze of what seemed to be the entire younger generation of the Weasley family.

They all looked very surprised to see Draco and Dudley sitting in the kitchen.

"What are you doing here?" George Weasley demanded. Draco did his best to put on his usual drawl.

"We _live_ here, Weasley. Or did Potter not bother telling you that?"

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy," George growled, drawing his wand, "Harry might have forgiven you, but some of us would like nothing more than to–"

Draco never heard what George would like to do, because at that moment Dudley stood up with an exclamation of surprise.

"You're the one who gave me that sweet!" he cried, looking at George, "The one that made my tongue grow really long." George's expression turned from outraged to mildly guilty, and he lowered his wand.

"Yeah," he said sheepishly, "Sorry 'bout that."

"Don't be stupid," said Dudley, to everyone's astonishment, "It was a brilliant prank. And I was a greedy pig; I deserved it."

"Really?" asked George incredulously, "Most of the time people tend to be pretty pissed off about a lot of the things we do."

Draco didn't miss the "we" that George used, and Dudley obviously hadn't either.

"Oh yeah," he said, "There were two of you, weren't there? Where's your twin?"

The mood in the room changed abruptly, and Dudley seemed to sense it.

"Sorry," he said quickly, "I should know by now to think before I speak. I'm so sorry."

"That's okay," George said, "You couldn't have known. He'd have liked to know his joke was so well appreciated. It was his idea, you know."

"Come on, we'd better get started," Ron said, interrupting, "We're here to throw a surprise party for Harry," he explained to Dudley, "He's been working way too hard lately, and we've decided it's about time he took a break."

During this conversation, Draco had been sliding towards the doorway, unnoticed, and now he watched as Dudley was drawn easily into the group of Weasleys, already debating how extreme the decorations should be. How had that happened so easily? Clearly Dudley had bad history with the Weasleys, and they must surely have disliked him for how he'd treated Harry, but somehow all it had taken was a brief conversation and they were all best friends.

Was forgiveness that easy to gain? Surely not. Perhaps it had been easy for Dudley, but there was no way it would be so easy for Draco. It was different for him.

Leaving them to their preparations, he slipped away, making his way up the stairs to his room. He only realised he had been followed when he arrived at his door and somebody caught up with him.

"Do you have a moment, Malfoy?"

He swung round to face Ginny Weasley. For a moment he tried to come up with some witty insult, but gave up. He didn't have the energy for that right now.

"Why not?" he sighed, opening the door, "Come on in."

She made herself at home in his room, curling up in one of the chairs. He couldn't even mange to be annoyed about that. She was Harry's girlfriend, and this was Harry's house. She probably had more right than he did to feel at home in this room.

"I don't trust you," she said bluntly as he perched on the end of the bed.

"What's new?"

"I'm serious, Malfoy. Harry won't listen to reason when it comes to stuff like this, but some of us are worried about him. I didn't really agree with him insisting that the Minister prevent you from even having to sit trial, though I didn't argue with him about that. But actually having you to stay in his house is different. How do we know you won't murder him in his sleep?"

Draco barely heard the second part of her speech. His mind was reeling. Harry had spoken up for him? He'd actually gone to the _Minister_ in order to protect him.

"Why would he do something like that?" he wondered aloud. Ginny gave him an annoyed look.

"I don't know, Malfoy. That's just who Harry is. He feels like he has to protect everyone. But you didn't answer my question."

Suddenly frustrated, Draco glared at her.

"How stupid are you, Weasley?" he snapped, "He's got a _wand_. I haven't. And he's Harry Fucking Potter. He's defeated the Dark Lord. I've got more chance of becoming Minster of Magic than murdering him."

Ginny seemed satisfied by that. In a sudden change of attitude, she laid a gentle hand on Draco's shoulder as she got up.

"He's given you a second chance, Malfoy," she said gently, "You may not have deserved it, and he may be the only one to think you did, but you should make the most of it. Having Harry Potter on your side isn't something most Death Eaters are blessed with."

She walked out of the room, and Draco glared after her. What right did she have to go around telling him what he should or shouldn't do with the rest of his life? Just because Potter had saved him _again_ didn't mean some Weasley could start bossing him around.

She was right, though. And he still didn't understand why Harry would do something like that for him.


End file.
